


Rushed

by down



Series: challenge accepted [3]
Category: Magic Knight Rayearth
Genre: F/F, Post canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/down/pseuds/down
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarta's going to be late. Umi wakes her up - and steals her breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rushed

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-relationship, post-canon, one swearword and one exceptionally brief kiss. 
> 
> Written for fan-flashworks, challenge: amnesty 6, 'breakfast'
> 
> .......More people should really write Umi and Tarta! I WILL LOVE YOU FOR IT. :D

oOo

Tarta, Princess of Chizeta, excellent swordswoman, and slowly becoming less inept at being a diplomat, woke up reaching for some kind of weapon when her bed jolted. 

Ryuuzaki Umi ducked the pillow flung at her face and continued to sit by Tarta’s hip, eating a piece of fruit stolen from the plate sat on the bedside table. “You’re going to be late.” She said, unperturbed by the best glare Tarta could produce when she was half asleep and half adrenaline rush. 

“Late?” Tarta yawned, opening her eyes again in time to see Umi lean over and take another piece of fruit. “Stop stealing my breakfast!” 

“I’m doing you a favour, least you can do is feed me.” Umi retorted, warding off a second pillow. “The meeting with your sister and a whole group of people who want to talk about selling stuff to your government. Trade delegation? From Nor? …Ringing any bells yet?” 

“Trade- fuck!” Tarta shot out the bed, covers flying everywhere as she dashed across to her bathroom. Someone had left clothes out on the chest by the door, thankfully; she could hear Umi laughing as she yanked them on, splashing water on her face and trying to unplait her hair at the same time. 

“Princesses shouldn’t use words like that!” Umi called, loud enough for her to hear. 

“You don’t even hear what I _said_.” Tarta retorted, dragging a comb over the sections of her hair to at least make them a little neater. She would have to do it properly later. “Your translation spell doesn’t work like that.” 

“I get a fair approximation, though.” Umi grinned at her as Tarta came back out, another piece of fruit in her hand – and the plate now in her lap. “And it certainly wasn’t _polite_.” 

“Neither are _you_.” Tarta snatched a large piece of maico in one hand, then stood looking between the comb and the fruit, conflicted. It would be at least an hour before someone brought food into the trade meeting, but she had so much hair still to comb… 

“Oh, sit down.” Umi said, putting the plate back on the table and pulling Tarta down to sit on the bed. She took the comb away, and shifted back so she could reach the long spill of hair, quick fingers smoothing it down. Tarta turned to stare at her, and was hit on the shoulder with the comb. “Eat!” 

“Yes, _ma’am_.” Tarta said with a huff, and bit down.

The juice was tart, and between that and a moment to sit still the last sleep-fog cleared. Umi was humming quietly as she pulled the comb through Tarta’s hair, doing a far better job than she would have, and while the fruit could have been brought in and left for her by a maid, there was a cup of tea waiting for her, just the right temperature to drink.

“…Thanks.” 

Umi snorted. “Well, you weren’t going to get there on time otherwise. Eat your breakfast and stop moving so much, I’m going to plait this now.” She did so quickly, hands deft at weaving the strands back and forth, tying the end off neatly and putting a clasp on it just as Tarta finished the last of the tea. “There! You’re almost presentable, and you’ll make it across the castle if you run. Now aren’t you glad I came to stay?” 

It was Tarta’s turn to laugh. “You just want me to let you into the armoury later.” 

“Of course!” Umi grinned at her, and Tarta leant forward on impulse, pressed her lips to that smile. 

She pulled back a moment later, almost falling off the bed, feeling just as startled as Umi looked; her lips had been slightly sticky with the juice of the fruit she had been eating, and soft, and- “I’ll see you later!” Tarta said, scrambling to her feet again and heading for the door, her face almost painfully hot. “I – um.” She glanced back, biting her lip, and Umi… 

Umi was looking down at the comb in her hands, cheeks flushed, but smiling again. A little, private smile. 

“I’ll see you later?” Tarta asked, hesitantly. 

“Yes.” Umi looked up at her, and her lips curled a little more. “See you later.” 

Tarta headed across the room at a run. She was going to be on time, or close enough – and hopefully by the time she got there, she was going to be able to stop grinning, or else she was probably going to freak these diplomats out. 

(…And her sister was going to know precisely what had happened and _smile_ at her all morning.)

oOo


End file.
